


The Left-Hand Path

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fade Shenanigans, Gen, Lucid Dreaming, Post-Game, oh no kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke's son only ever has one dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Left-Hand Path

**Author's Note:**

> This snippet was inspired by a meme prompt. The general concept was: f!Hawke was pregnant when Anders was killed, and now their child is haunted by Justice.

Leander can’t remember when the dream first came to him, but he’s convinced that it’s the only dream he has ever had. This does not especially trouble him. He’s seen what nightmares look like. They look like his mother lurching out of her bedroll with a sob on her lips and searching frantically for the knife under her pillow. 

The dream is a pretty good deal compared to that.

It begins on a road that could be anywhere but is actually nowhere. Leander knows that it is nowhere because he has been on a lot of roads — like really, _a lot_ — and not one of them was ever clean. Or evenly paved. Or lit up by fairy lights at every ten paces. The road is so perfect that it makes Leander’s skin itch with the urge to summon a tremor and crack the cobblestones. He bets that he could open up a big fissure full of exciting worms and muck. 

Mum told him not to do that unless he's trying to kill someone, though, and last time he was disobedient Mum made him spend half the trip to Rialto in Auntie Isabela’s cargo hold. It was smelly and he missed out on asking the sailors about their cool tattoos. So Leander holds back. 

There is only one place to go in the dream, and that is where the wind takes him. It tugs at Leander’s jacket until he relents and gives it his hand. 

“ _You are loved_ ,” the wind says, by way of greeting.

Leander never knows how to reply to that, but it’s okay, because the wind keeps talking. 

“ _You are loved_ ,” the wind says, along with, “ _I’m proud of you_ ,” and, “ _do the right thing_ ,” and, “ _did you like the cheese_ ,” and, “ _listen to your mother_ ,” and all kinds of things that would be deeply embarrassing if the words didn’t press right down into his marrow, past the parts of him that were capable of being bothered.

As they walk, the world rots around them. The road grows muddy and the sky turns to ash. This is more normal for Leander, but the wind doesn’t understand normal the same way Leander does. The wind’s voice grows louder, expanding from a breeze into a rush, until finally, right before the end, the storm slams into his back and picks up him. 

Leander sees their destination stretched before him, a city he’s never been to. It's dark and tattered and filthy with villains like the ones from Uncle Varric’s stories. 

“ _Behold your birthright_.” 

Leander could scour it clean. He could kill the bad people with a tremor and never get in trouble. He could break all the chains, and hang up fairy lights for everyone, and they wouldn’t have to keep walking, always walking, and his mother would never need to keep a knife under her pillow again. 

This is the part where Leander should be scared, he thinks. The storm is fathomless and he is very small. But he is not a baby and this is not a nightmare, so instead of being scared he wakes up.


End file.
